By One's Own Hand

I awoke from a terrible nightmare last night.

The rapture day had finally come. I had won the lottery, I had bought Taps and refurbished it to my specifications, and Taps (as it was foretold two years ago long ago in the Steve Perryman ancient prophecy) had at least become Super Taps.

And lo it was beautiful

And verily was I pleased.

[In my dream the bar looked something like the above].

But all was not well.

Beautiful though she undoubtedly was, comfortable as the stools were, and universally sitting down and being quiet were the customers, it just didn’t feel right.

The essence – the spirit – of Taps had been lost and none of us liked it anymore.

And so, because of my pride and hubris in attempting to perfect Taps....

I.

Had.

Destroyed.

Her.